Spreading it on Thick
by readithoney
Summary: For the Master Nation Challenge: Dr. McCoy spends some time alone after a long, hard day. McKirk, Self-love, Explicit.


**Spreading it on Thick **

What a total fucking mess. What a bust. What an absolute shit storm. Do diplomacy missions ever end diplomatically? The day's been frustrating as hell and Jim is stuck on the planet smoothing out the kinks, making demands, arguing for peace with people who shoot first and ask questions later.

I've stabilized the poor bastards that got mowed down. It was a mad dash but now the medical bay is quiet save for the soft shoes of the staff and the labored breathing of the injured.

After a last walk'round I head on down the hall. I'm tense and disgusting, my shirt bloodied and my shoulders wracked with stress. I shower right away, the silence of the stateroom sucking at my buzzing ears. I should be with Jim on the surface but I had to follow my patients. The water hits my shoulder blades and I roll my forehead against the cool wall. I'm uselessly exhausted. Inspecting my face in the mirror, I decide I look rode hard and put away wet.

I towel off lazily; my eyelids are quittin' on me. Naked in the kitchen, I pour a few fingers into a weighted glass and take it to the couch. I keep waiting for this cabin to feel less like a hotel room but it isn't working. The furniture, the glasses, the towels. Everything gets replaced, everything feels sterile and painstakingly designed. This couch is the same couch in every other cabin on every level. I nestle my naked ass into this one though, which makes it pretty unique.

I finish my drink and set the glass on the table beside me. I'm losing this battle with sleep so I haul my ass up and wade into the covers of our bed. The kid better be safe and sound down there, he better be careful, he better call me first thing in the morning.

The bed feels cold and I grab Jim's pillow and drag the scent of his hair and sweat and skin through my nostrils, my cock responding restlessly. I'm tired, I'm fucking tired and drained, but the brat knows how to get to me even when he isn't here. I think of him down there being the diplomat and stave off a snort.

My hand surrounds my swollen member and I commit to a few more minutes of sleeplessness. I press my face hard into Jim's pillow and roll my body down flat into the mattress, trapping my erection between my stomach and the sheets. I tighten the muscles in my ass and thrust myself along the linen layers, fucking up into the bed rhythmically.

Once I'm deep in it, I feel my skin grow hot as I shove and grind hard against the bed, grunting. I pitch my arms back and rest my hands on my ass, pulling at the curve of my cheeks to stretch them apart. As I come, I can feel the climax start deeper, resonating from my perineum. I gasp out as I spill into the sheets, my hips still hooking and my lower spine burning with effort.

A low whistle from the doorway startles me and I twist to see Jim-fucking-Kirk looking ragged in the doorway. "_Damn_," he drawls, the smile on his lips making my whole face burn with embarrassment. I slap my forehead down into the bed.

"That was beautiful, Bones," he says, that smile saturating his cracking, overused voice. I feel a dip in the mattress then his fingers run up the back of my neck and twist into my hair.

I roll on my side to face him. "How long were you standing there?"

"Long enough to learn a few things." Jim pushes me onto my back and presses his curved lips into my stomach, collecting the slickness still clinging to my hot skin. I shudder.

"Jim, you look like shit." I sit up, avoiding the soggy spot on the sheets, and run my hand up the side of his head and into his golden hair. He looks beat. "Why are you back, kid?"

He shifts his eyes up to the ceiling dramatically, trying to find the words. "They set me up in a room. It was gorgeous."

"You poor thing." I heap the sarcasm on nice and thick so even Jim can't miss it.

Then I'm ambushed by his blue eyes, and he turns his head softly like a puppy or a bunny or some other ridiculous, cute creature. "It was nice but I wanted to be home."

"This isn't home." I kick the words out through my teeth, rekindling my contempt for our prepackaged surroundings.

Jim looks exasperated and I feel a twinge of victory. The little sonnabitch can see how it feels for once. But my revelry is short lived and replaced by a prickly feeling in my eyes when he leans in and says, hushed, "home isn't where, silly, it's who."


End file.
